


The Ruins We've Built

by my_deer_friend



Series: Pictures of you [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a lawyer, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Art School, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, HamBurr bromance, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, John is a student, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Relationship Problems, Slow Burnout, Unreliable Narrator, mentions of depression, workplace drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/pseuds/my_deer_friend
Summary: Alex is chosen to prosecute a high-profile fraud case and John gets into art school. It’s going to be a tough year, personally and financially - but it’s everything they’ve ever wished for, and they’re in it together.They’re a team. Alex and John against the world, just like it’s been for the last eleven years.So Alex can’t figure out why - despite their love and sacrifice and best intentions - everything starts to come apart at the seams.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Pictures of you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791655
Comments: 33
Kudos: 42





	1. The News

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will update as we go!
> 
> You don't need to read the first two parts for this to make sense, but they give a bit of background into our protagonists and their relationship.
> 
> Updates will be regular (planning at least one a week) but there won't be a specific schedule, so best to subscribe if you don't want to miss any of the drama. And settle in for the long haul with this story.

_He who gave the winds to blow, and the lightnings to rage—even him have I always loved and served. His precepts have I observed. His commandments have I obeyed—and his perfections have I adored. He will snatch me from ruin. He will exalt me to the fellowship of Angels and Seraphs, and to the fullness of never ending joys._

_Alexander Hamilton, Sept. 6, 1772_

\---

“No, no, Pegs, that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure you’re looking in the correct folder?”

Alex clamps his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he fishes in his satchel for his house keys. He should still be at work, helping Peggy with the paperwork that she’s busy on. After all, it’s his fault that she’s acquired the immense task of transferring all his clients to another of the firm’s associates in the next two weeks. But he insisted on rushing home early today, so the call is the concession; he’s talking Peggy through some of the easier matters on his commute.

He just can’t wait to tell John the news.

Peggy groans audibly. “Ugh, Ham, your papers are a mess!”

“They’re not a mess,” he says with a steadying sigh, “You’re just not following the system.”

At that, she bursts into a rant, wasting his time with her own opinions instead of letting him help her out. He smiles ruefull as he remembers that he was the same way when he’d started out as a junior attorney - wanting to prove himself instead of letting others tell him what to think. And he’s really trying not to be rude - she’s his friend, his colleague, and moreover she’s the boss’s daughter. Alex is already the youngest associate in the firm’s history, and he’s well on his way to becoming its youngest partner, but in his last review, Philip Schuyler made it clear that he needs to learn to be diplomatic and cooperative if he wants the promotion. It’s good advice, so he’s putting the effort in.

Then again, none of that may matter any more. 

After all - and he feels a tickle of excitement down his spine just thinking about it - he’s about to become the youngest prosecutor _ever_ to transfer into the New York District Attorney’s Major Economic Crimes bureau. 

Alex can’t help grinning. He’s giddy just thinking about it. It’s _nuts._

He finally digs out his keys, then nearly drops his gym bag as he tries to get the lock open. It’s full of unused running gear. He promised John he’d do some exercise this week, but then he got _the news_. He’ll get to it tomorrow. 

Or, heh - sometime.

He might be too busy prosecuting a major corporation for fraud in federal court to worry about trivialities like _exercise_. 

His face is starting to hurt from all this smiling.

This is, after all, a hundred times better than any career move he could have dreamed of himself, because he never imagined he’d be up for something like this - and certainly not so early in his career. He’s accelerated his trajectory by _years_. At this rate, despite his background, he might actually stand a chance at a high-profile public office. He gets a chill at the thought. It always seemed impossibly beyond his grasp but - now, in one lucky stroke - it suddenly isn’t.

His nerves are sizzling, a perfect balance of excitement and anticipation. His fingers are shaking with it. It’s making it very hard to unlock the door.

He still can’t believe that it all came about by chance. The Bureau is working on a massive confidential fraud investigation - he doesn’t know what it is, not yet - and they’re looking for prosecutors with experience handling complicated inter-state financial matters. Really, it sounds like some big-budget legal thriller from the snippets he’s heard. And because it’s still a classified matter - classified! He’s going to be on a _classified_ case! - they can’t advertise the positions publicly. Schuyler happened to have someone from the Bureau over for dinner and had put in a good word for Alex. It got him the interview, but the endorsement wouldn’t have been enough if his skills and credentials weren’t also top notch. He knows his experience is a perfect fit. Still, the DA’s office has their pick of the best - and they decided they want him. _Him!_

And it has all happened so quickly, too. The first he even heard of the position was three weeks ago, and since then he’s been through a whirlwind of interviews and weirdly invasive personal screenings and contract negotiations; he half-expected he’d be disqualified just based on his rocky history. But he got the email with the confirmation just this morning. 

For now, according to the contract, he’s just transferring to the DA’s office for this one mystery case, and he’ll be released back to Schuyler’s firm once it wraps up. But Alex is determined to make one hell of an impression, and there’s a good chance he’ll be able to find a way to stay on with the DA.

He signed the contract and sent it back right away. The DA’s secretary has already sent him a calendar invite for a meet-and-greet in three weeks. It’s almost too fast for him to take it all in.

There's only one snag.

He hasn’t said anything to John yet. 

He’s not completely sure why.

If John asks, he can say it all seemed so preposterous that he didn’t want to jinx it. And it’s been strictly confidential until now that the appointment is confirmed. He had to sign a form and everything. 

Well, they _did_ say he could discuss it with his spouse. 

But if John were to challenge him on _that_ , he can say they’re not actually married - and Alex is always willing to exploit a loophole or technicality if it helps him get his way. It’s a useful skill in a system where the letter of the law is often more important than the spirit.

And anyway, it won’t be a problem. John’s always happy for him when he makes one of these audacious leaps. His support has never been in doubt over the last eleven years, and there’s no reason that should change now. The fact that this job might demand greater commitment and keep him away from home more than normal is something he’ll deal with if it comes up. He'll figure something out; he knows how far he can push John, and how to mollify him if he crosses that line. 

So Alex reframes his reluctance as a desire to surprise and impress John, and puts a lid on all the other doubts.

He tries the keys again. The door finally relents, and he crowds inside. Peggy is still going on and on in his ear, but he’s lost the thread.

John is sprawled on the couch, headphones in, doing something on his laptop. He looks up in surprise when Alex walks in, shoots a glance at the clock, then closes his mouth on his greeting when he sees Alex is on the phone. Alex gives him a grin and an exaggerated eye-roll, which he knows John will parse correctly.

“So, what you’re saying, Pegs,” Alex finally interjects as he dumps his satchel, keys and thermos on the kitchen counter, “Is that the sequencing is not going to be a good fit. Right? So we’ll dig around for some more options tomorrow.” And before she can take him on another tangent, he says, “Sorry, gotta go. I just got home and John’s here and I’ve got the-- uh, thing. We’ll pick it up tomorrow. Have a good evening.” He hangs up and goes back to the little nook by the door to drop his gym bag and kick off his shoes.

“Well, hello,” John says, amused. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

John shifts over as Alex flops down on the couch, lets out a big sigh and allows his limbs to melt into the cushions. 

He wants to savour this feeling. Keep this life-changing secret to himself just for a moment longer, even though all of his skin itches and his heart feels like an agitated bird fighting to break free of his rib cage. He ignores the brief, unexpected, formless flash of anxiety.

“Good day?” John asks mildly, stretching his legs out across Alex’s lap, who runs a hand up his calf.

“You could say that,” Alex says, struggling and failing to suppress his grin. John gives him that look that means he knows something’s up, so Alex jumps in before he can ask about it. “What are you busy with there? Still working?” He tries to take a peek at the screen but John shuts it, just a little too quickly. Huh. Looks like they both have a secret today.

“I’ll show you in a minute. Did you eat yet?” 

“Nope, it’s still early.” Alex isn’t exactly thinking about food right now. “Why, did you make dinner?”

“Oh, no, sorry, I got busy here,” John says, sounding a little guilty. “But I can. Or we can just order in? Chinese?”

Alex gives him a fond smile. “Whatever you want. Just get my usual wherever you order from.”

“Sure. Wine?”

“God, yes.”

John gets up from the couch, taking his laptop with him, and fiddles with the app on his phone to place their order. He takes a half-finished bottle of white wine out of the fridge and divides it between two glasses. He hands one to Alex, then drops back down next to him.

“Cheers.”

They drink in comfortable silence for a minute, even though Alex is practically vibrating. He imagines the air filled with electric tension, like before a thunderstorm. Then John props his legs up on the coffee table and puts his head on Alex’s shoulder. Alex reaches his arm around John and pulls him closer. 

John runs a hand across his chest. “Your heart’s racing. You okay?”

“Mmm, yes,” Alex hums happily, kissing the top of his head.

“You gonna tell me?”

“Later.” He’s still thinking of the best way to break the news. Should he just come out and say it? Slip it into conversation obliquely and see if John picks up on it? 

Before he can decide, John exhales deeply. 

“Okay, then - Alex?” 

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex keeps his voice light but he feels a jolt of anxiety. John sounds nervous, hesitant, like something’s wrong. It’s not like him at all - except when he’s heading steeply down into another dark spell.

“Don’t you sometimes feel like we’re just going through the motions every day? Like things are a bit, I don’t know, stuck?” 

No, of course he doesn’t - Alex is constantly moving. This conversation is heading in a worrying direction, so he goes for humour and tries to make his voice light to hide his uneasiness. “If you’re looking for a divorce, let me warn you, I know a really good lawyer.” This is familiar ground, a stupid joke they pass between them every once in a while. 

“Don’t be stupid,” John mumbles, pretending grumpiness, “Can’t get divorced if we’re not married.” This is the usual response, at least, which notches Alex’s anxiety down a step. John isn’t taking him seriously and that’s a good sign. “No, remember how we were talking the other day, after my birthday, about what we would do with our lives if we could live them all over again? How you were saying you’d want to be a pilot and I said I would have become an artist.”

“Sure.”

“Well… It made me think. I mean, we only have one life, so wouldn’t you say we have an obligation to try new things and take some risks?”

“Stupid question - you know I would. Out with it, Jack, you’re starting to worry me.”

John takes a deep breath. Alex can’t quite see his face because John is still leaning against his shoulder, but he thinks there’s a hint of a smile there. “Okay. Um. I’ve been looking into art programs around the city. Like, one-year degrees and that. I was thinking of applying.”

“Oh. Wow. Really?” 

Alex is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t expecting this. He takes a moment to digest it. 

He has been nudging John to explore new things for a while. He has his own lofty goals to achieve, but John just sort of muddles through from day to day, and he knows this fact has been bothering him as he enters his thirties without a clear direction. Alex knows John doesn’t love his dull freelance PR work, and that he’s pottering through life without anything he’s really passionate about - but this would be a hell of a leap. Almost like the sort of crazy thing Alex would do.

It’s equally a surprise because John isn’t one to keep something like this to himself. He uses Alex as a sounding board for all sorts of decisions, big and small, so that fact that he’s come to this one without consultation is new. There’s a hint of rebellion to it that Alex admires and finds puzzling in equal measure. John likes stability - but now he’s the one rocking the boat, and him going back to study would change their lives significantly. 

And if John’s talking major life plans - well, shit, this is taking some of the wind out of Alex’s sails. 

John misinterprets his silence. “I don’t know, it’s kind of a crazy idea. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no, no. Hang on, tell me more” Alex blusters, covering for his scattered thoughts. What else _can_ he say? He needs more time to collect himself. “Hypothetically,” he says, hoping the note of encouragement he’s reaching for actually comes through in his voice, “What would this look like? Where are you thinking of applying?”

John sits up all the way and starts listing off local school names and the relative pros and cons of their offerings. He goes on at such length that Alex quickly realises three things. The first is how tiring it is listening to someone talk about something you’re not that interested in (a lesson he files away over-optimistically for himself). The second is how long John must have been planning this conversation, given the immense volume of information he’s sharing and how he seems to have organised and worded his thoughts. 

And the third is that - wow. John’s got that little spark in his eyes that Alex only realises has been missing - for years - now that he sees it again. Alex _has_ noticed that John’s been down longer than normal. This mood always hits him in late autumn around his birthday, but he usually resets by the start of the new year; now it’s almost March and he’s been - well, not depressed in the scary way John can get when he hits a serious patch, but not really happy either. Flat, maybe, is a good way to describe it. This spark, though, is more than John just being back to normal. It’s wilder, brighter, more like John from their college days, who’d laugh in that giddy way at every stupid joke or innuendo Alex made, and fight anyone for looking at him or his friends funny.

John’s mood has been pricking at Alex’s conscience lately, even as he keeps reminding himself that there isn’t that much he can actually _do_ about it; if there was some way to just reach inside John’s brain and fix him, he’d have done it already. And, well, if Alex has been absorbed in work and hasn’t given John as much time or focus as he deserves, he rationalises that he’s working hard now so that they can have an easier life later. 

In his more honest moments, he knows that’s a half-truth at best. He’s always going to be chasing the next big thing. After all, he’s doing that _right now_ \--

Ah. Shit. John doesn’t know Alex has just made a massive change of his own. Alex is flooded with relief that he didn’t say anything about the new job earlier, because there’s no way John would propose anything like this if he knew Alex is planning to embark on his own new gruelling journey. 

Then John reaches over and grabs his laptop. He flips the screen open with a tentative smile. This pulls Alex back to the moment.

“And finally, since you always had such good things to say, I was actually thinking about Columbia,” he says, showing Alex the screen. “They’re doing some really cool things with their program.”

Alex draws his brows together as he’s swiftly overwhelmed by the idea of John going to Columbia, where he spent some of the best years of his life. Memories flood back as he looks at the website. Imagine! He could show John all around the campus, tell him about the hidden spots and student hang-outs, teach him how to work the admin system against itself - though obviously his knowledge is almost a decade out of date by now. 

John misreads the distant look on Alex’s face. “Or, you know, if that would be weird…”

“No.” Alex grins up at him. “I love it. That would be amazing.”

John smiles back. He continues, sounding like he’s trying to be casual about the whole thing. “Look, anyway, even if you agree, it’s not like it’s a done deal. I’d still need to apply and get in. It’s competitive. You have to do interviews and send in a portfolio and all that.”

“You’d ace it.”

John shrugs. “And besides, we really should talk it over properly first. See if it would even work out. I don’t even know if it’s possible. For one, if I’m not working, then we need to make a plan with money. I know you always worry about that side of things.”

This comment stops Alex’s growing excitement dead in its tracks.

Of course he worries. Paying expenses isn’t optional. 

He hasn’t even considered the money angle, which is strange because his mind is always quick to fly to the financial implications of things. He must be getting too comfortable.

He’s saved from responding by the doorbell and the arrival of their dinner. While John runs down to fetch it, Alex flops back onto the couch, finishes his wine in one gulp, and gathers himself.

Alex was poor growing up - properly poor, not just broke in the way his friends joke about. For a long time, his entire world fitted into one small suitcase that he lugged from one foster home to the next, and the only money he had to his name was a few bills that he’d squirreled away inside in a hidden pocket. He's been reliant, sometimes, on complete strangers for his survival. He scraped through college on scholarships and food stamps and the goodwill of friends (and, eventually, John), and then slaved away at poorly-paid but well-connected jobs for the first years of his career. Now, finally, they are comfortable enough that he no longer budgets their groceries down to the nearest twenty dollars and that the occasional splurge is a source of excitement rather than dread. 

So, he considers, what would it really mean if they cut back on their finances? 

Giving up their second income would mean no more frivolous dinners out as a reward for a busy week. No last-minute trips down the coast when they want a weekend off. Fewer convenience purchases. Alex knows what it’s like to live without all these _things_. That’s not the problem. He’d happily eat rice and beans and instant noodles for every meal, walk to work, buy second-hand clothes or furniture, skip drinks at the bar for a bottle of wine at home. These are sacrifices he has made before, and he can do it again. If he never sees the inside of another fancy restaurant, he won’t really miss it. 

But he does feel a chill of discomfort when he considers going back to the _mindset_ of scraping by from one paycheck to the next. Alex knows that he can cover all their critical expenses on just his salary - he’s made very sure of that, just in case, because _you never know_ \- but only if they’re careful. The margin is exceedingly thin. And walking this tightrope comes with the ever-present grinding fear that one unexpected expense can push you into dangerous financial instability. He had hoped that he’d worked hard enough to leave this feeling behind him forever.

For John, _only_ for John, would Alex even consider it. 

In all these ways, John is different. This is more of a problem. For one, a lot of the things Alex considers luxuries are just normal parts of life to him and John’s going to struggle giving them up. And he’s always had the family safety net. Yes, John says he would rather starve than ask his father for a cent, but Henry would never let his eldest son end up homeless - even if he had to bend John’s pride to accept the charity. And John has no idea what starving is really like, anyway (Alex gives him three days, tops, before he’d crack). But it’s a moot point, because Henry’s not going to bankroll _this_. So even though John doesn’t really get why Alex spends so much time worrying about money, he’s going to have to learn how to worry himself. 

Alex might have stood a chance of talking Schuyler into a raise, but this new job is in public service, and although it’s a high-profile position, it doesn’t come with an increase. He's signed the contract, so there's no going back. John’s additional income makes it a lot easier to budget and weather unexpected expenses, but if that goes away...

His earlier excitement about the new job is rapidly metabolising into anxiety.

Just as this realisation strikes him, John gets back with the takeout, so Alex consciously unfurrows his brow and loosens his shoulders. John takes the food to the kitchen counter, carefully moves aside the things Alex dumped there earlier, and starts fussing with blows and utensils.

Alex sees the excited, almost giddy look on John’s face.

Okay, Alex decides, he clearly can’t tell John about the new job just yet. He can’t risk derailing John’s plan, so he needs to wait and see how this plays out. John is finally listening to Alex’s prodding to try something new. Alex has taken lots of risks, and John has always backed him up. So far, they have all paid off. Therefore, isn’t it strictly speaking John’s turn? 

But then again, isn’t this also Alex’s once-in-a-lifetime shot at his dream career? 

Can they do _both_?

He swallows down the lump in his throat.

He will find a way.

When Henry had temporarily disowned John all those years ago - partly because Alex had egged John into finally coming out - love, pride and guilt had driven Alex to take on the mantle of supporting John himself: just the two of them against the world. He’s kept that unspoken promise as best as he can, and he’s not planning to break it now.

He realises that he was hoping, distantly, that John would have the time to support _him_ through this. The Bureau job is going to demand more from him, which means less time and energy for everyday stuff. But on the other hand, if John has his own project to immerse himself in, that takes away some of the guilt Alex was dreading from prioritizing his much bigger workload.

By the time John returns to the couch with Alex’s food exactly as he likes it - two thirds of the box of chow mein, tons of chilli sauce, a spring roll - Alex’s laser-focused brain is already churning out a plan.

In fact, he has a dual strategy. He’s figuring out the practicalities, but he also wants to make the reality of what this would mean clear to John; he just needs to make sure he doesn’t scare him off.

John sits down. “So,” he says, like he’s about to launch in, but Alex taps the side of his own head since his mouth is too full to speak. “Er. Have you worked it all out already?”

Alex swallows and grins. “Of course.”

John bursts out laughing. “I keep forgetting you’re a human calculator.”

Alex tries to look indignant but only manages smug. “It would be tight, but it’s possible. I can sweet-talk the managing agent into keeping the rent increase low; we’re good tenants, anyway, and maybe I can throw them some pro bono conveyancing or something. Groceries, internet, utilities, phones, all that's fine. Insurance--” He cuts off. Racks his brain for what his new contract says. Feels a pulse of guilt that John doesn’t know yet. “Yeah. I have through work, so we would just need to cover you. But after that we need to scale back. A lot.” 

“Meaning?”

“No more takeout, for one,” he says around a mouthful of noodles. John huffs in amusement. “No travel, which means no going home for the holidays for a bit.” John nods stoically. There is, of course, no question of Alex wanting to go home. “Gym… well, your school will have all sorts of sports facilities, and I just go running anyway,” - right, another stab of guilt - “which I can do in the park. What else?”

“Netflix?” John quips.

“Mmm, ten bucks a month, it’ll have to go,” Alex jokes. 

“Tragic.”

“Well, are you planning to spend all year on the couch?”

“Ha. Good point.”

“Okay. Semester starts in - what? August? So that would give us some time to get ready. You could focus on saving up your extra income so you can cover your, whatever, art supplies and stuff. And I’d put some cash aside every month into a joint account that’s just for fun. It wouldn’t be a lot, but we can decide how to spend it together. That’s important to do - to have something nice to look forward to.” 

John smiles. “I like that.”

“And we don't touch our savings except in an emergency. So? Would you be able to live on that budget?”

“Seems manageable. I mean, it would just be for the year, right?”

Alex looks at him searchingly. “You tell me, John. Is this a sabbatical or a career change?”

John pulls his mouth up to one side. “I don’t know yet. I think that would depend on how it goes. If I even like it.”

“Okay then.” Alex has saved his biggest worry for last. “The only real issue is the tuition.”

But to his surprise, John sits up, eyes sparkling. “Actually, it’s not! I have some cash that my mom put into a college fund for me. Since Henry paid for my undergrad degree, it’s just been sitting and accumulating. It should be enough even if I have to pay the full rate.”

Alex’s fork stops half-way to his mouth. “Oh?” 

“Yeah! Mom put her own money into it. She said it was all the money she’d saved up before she met Henry.” And before she married into enough wealth that she was allowed to stop worrying about things like this, Alex adds silently. “It’s something she did just for me, not for the other kids - I guess she didn't think there would be so many of us. Even Henry doesn’t know about it. I actually forgot about it. When I remembered, that got me thinking about all this seriously.”

Delighted as he is to have this hurdle removed, Alex can’t help his small sigh. Hearing stories like this makes him regret that he never met Eleanor. Like Alex, she grew up brown and poor, and she knew how to make contingencies for survival. They would have had a lot to talk about, like the fact that only John would be able to _forget_ that he has tens of thousands of dollars lying around, or that she intuited that he might need the support - in case his bigoted father cut him off, for example.

“Sounds perfect,” Alex says, instead of a dozen other things that are all much less neutral. “Anything else we’re missing?”

John thinks for a second. “I think that covers it?”

“Okay. So, now, tell me.” He takes a bit of the spring roll, flaky pastry going everywhere. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

John leans back and smiles, looking much more at ease. “Pretty much since that day when we talked. I didn’t want to say anything until I’d let the idea sit for a bit, to see if it was actually something I wanted to do or just a silly spur-of-the-moment thing. Plus I had to check with our family accountant about the college fund thing without Henry finding out.” 

Alex doesn’t comment on _family accountant_. “And you are really serious about this?”

John takes a deep breath and looks down at his fried rice seriously. “Yes. I definitely want to give it a shot. Who knows? Maybe it will be great and I’ll actually be able to make art for a living. Or it’ll be a fun year but I’ll go right back to my old job or something. Or maybe I’ll even hate it. But if you’re on board, I think I’d like to try. Oh and one more thing.” John scrunches his face up a bit. “Crazy timing, but… I just realised the Columbia application is due on Friday. No pressure, and you should take a few days to think about it, but can you let me know before then?”

He doesn’t need more time. The answer is clear when he adds up all the factors. His frustration about John’s cycles of depression - and the converse way John just lights up talking about this plan. That this would give John something to immerse himself in, and take some of the pressure off Alex to be John’s primary focus. The strange thrill of John choosing his alma mater. The way he loves John so much that wanting him to be happy makes his bones ache. The angry swell of defiance he feels at the notion that he _wouldn’t_ be able to support this. 

“Okay," he says. "You should do it.”

John’s eyes shoot up. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

John smiles, but there’s a note of tension in his brow. “This is-- I mean, it would be a lot to ask. And it’s _your_ money we’d be using. Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because I know it’s a big ask and it’s fine if you say no.”

“John,” Alex says, putting as much sincerity into his words as he can muster. He takes the half-empty bowl out of John’s hands and puts it with his on the coffee table. He scoots closer so that he can pull John’s face to his and gives him a gentle kiss. “It’s really okay. At this point, I think we can safely say we’re a package deal, so there’s no ‘mine’ versus ‘yours’. Like you said, life is short, and it’s just money.” 

Except that it’s also safety and control and potential and a full night’s sleep-- No. 

It’s fine. 

He can do this.

“You’re really sure?” John asks, talking Alex’s hands and gripping them tightly in his.

“If this makes you happy, it’s worth literally anything.” He kisses John again. “We’ll make it work. Whatever you want, always.” He can see John’s smile wobble, so he adds, “Besides, when you’re a rich and famous artist, you can fund my pilot’s license.”

John lets out a surprised, emotional laugh. “Deal.” He threads his arm around Alex’s back and pulls him closer. “Wow. Thank you. I thought you might try to convince me it’s crazy to even consider this.”

Alex shrugs. “It _is_ crazy, but that’s no reason not to try. We've done far stupider things. Besides, I’ve seen your paintings, and they’re pretty fucking good.” The spark is there again in John’s eye in response to that, and when he sees it, his heart clenches. “I’m proud of you,” he finds himself saying.

John laughs. “Why? I haven’t actually done anything.”

“I don’t know. It’s a brave thing to do, to follow your dreams.”

John shrugs dismissively, but Alex can see the anticipation in every line on his face. “You do it all the time, Alex.” 

Alex hums a reply and bites the inside of his cheek. 

John releases his hands and reaches for his bowl again. “Oh, so, what was that thing you wanted to tell me earlier?”

Alex flails for an excuse. He can’t say anything right now. “Oh, just a silly work thing, I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, I want to hear more about what you’d be doing if you went to Columbia.”

John launches into it and Alex tries to pay fuller attention. He needs to distract himself or else he’ll slip up. 

He resolves that he’ll tell John the news on Friday. 

Just as soon as John has sent in his application.


	2. The Invitation

Alex surrenders to the intensity of the day and goes to bed early with John. They climb under the sheets together, and Alex curls himself against John’s warm, broad back. Although John is buzzing with excitement, he drifts off almost right away; a contented, deep, genuine sleep. But despite his own tiredness, Alex’s brain keeps him awake and in the grip of a distant anxiety that he can’t make out the shape of. Irrational though it is, he’s also a little annoyed - at John for unwittingly stealing his thunder, and at himself for losing control of the moment.

No. Self-pity is a waste of time. He has a plan, and he just needs to persevere until Friday.

The thought is not enough of a comfort to allow sleep. When he does slip under a few times, only briefly, he has fitful dreams of running towards something, not knowing what it is, and the harder he runs the further away it recedes. He jolts awake each time just as he realises that he won’t be able to catch it.

He tosses for ages like this, trying not to disturb John, and eventually gives up on sleep a few hours before dawn. He kills the time before getting ready for work by dealing with some of the emails he missed yesterday when he was just too excited to focus, and he finds that yesterday’s uncomplicated happiness has turned ashy.

***

When Alex arrives at his office building, Peggy is downstairs in the lobby getting coffee from the takeaway stand. She spots him across the hall and waves him over, and Alex doesn’t react fast enough to pretend he hasn’t seen her. He winces internally. He’s not good with people while he’s still in this fuzzy, unsettled state - but knowing Peggy, she’ll just run after him and give him a vicious scolding if he avoids her, and at least this way he’ll get his next coffee sooner.

He sees her grab two cups off the counter. They meet up mid-way and set off towards the elevator.

“Bless you, Margarita,” he says as she hands him his cup. 

“Ha, no probs.” She narrows her eyes. “Why do you look like shit?”

Alex frowns. “Gee, thanks, Pegs. Didn’t get much sleep.” He takes a sip, ignoring the scalding temperature.

“Because you were up all night drinking and having wild celebration sex or…?” She doesn’t modulate her volume and a few people turn to look at her curiously.

He can’t muster a laugh. “No. I don’t know. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Shame.” She frowns in sympathy, but then perks up again. “So, what did John say? Is he excited? Terrified?”

Peggy is the only one of their friends who knows about the new job - and that’s only because they’re colleagues and he needs her help wrapping up his affairs. For some reason, she’s dying to talk about it with other people. Perhaps, he considers, because she actually knows what a big deal it is and is genuinely impressed that he landed it. But it means that Alex can't bluff his answer.

“I didn’t tell John yet,” he mumbles into his cup.

She stops dead, all performative surprise. “Whaaaaat?” She draws the word out for several seconds, attracting the attention of a few more passing office workers. Alex doesn’t stop walking, so she catches back up with him and threads her arm around his. “It was one thing not telling him before, but it’s confirmed now! So why not?”

He can’t possibly think of a suitable evasion and he doesn’t want to lie outright, so he takes a sip and says, “Long story.” Then, to pre-empt her, “Don’t ask. Later, okay?”

She gives him a dark, calculating look, but she must realise how poor her odds are of getting anything out of him right now because she drops it. 

They work together through the morning, Peggy sharp and bossy, Alex sluggishly until his tiredness ebbs away. He manages to keep his temper in check and she doesn’t press him, just follows his directives even though he can’t really tell how coherent they are. It’s thankless, dull and difficult work - that kind that would usually have her groaning and sighing dramatically - but he’s impressed by how much focus she has developed, especially when he thinks back to the flighty, immature kid she was when she started just a year ago. They have become a good team, and his pride is dimmed by the pang he feels that she won’t be working with him for much longer.

By mid-afternoon, Alex feels paper-thin and wired from all the well-intentioned caffeine Peggy’s been feeding him. They take a break and he pops back to his desk to check his email. There are a series of updates from Schuyler’s HR team and the DA’s office. Most of it is admin that he needs to handle over the course of the next weeks, but one email catches his eye: the instructions for getting himself admitted to the federal bar, which he needs to do over and above his current license. Mostly he just needs to dig up and submit the paperwork from his old state bar application, but there is apparently a short examination too. Just a formality, the email states, but Alex sees the word ‘exam’ and then glimpses the word ‘tomorrow’ and his fatigued brain spins into overdrive.

He groans and drops his forehead onto his folded arms just as Peggy walks in with a fresh box of case files.

She dumps it loudly on the floor and closes the door.

“It’s later,” she challenges. “What’s going on, Ham?”

He knows it’s pointless, but he deflects anyway. “Is that the 2018 box?”

She doesn’t even entertain it. “Nice try.” She pulls up the chair across from his desk and plants herself between him and the door. “Spill.”

He looks up at her confrontational tone and can’t help but laugh. “You’re starting to sound like me. You shouldn’t; I’m a bad influence.” Peggy pouts and narrows her eyes dangerously. “You really are very nosy, you know?”

“Alex!”

“Okay, okay!” He looks away, thoughtful, picking the best words to explain himself. “Something important came up yesterday that John needs to focus on - I don’t know if I can tell you, so don’t ask - so I need to give him a few days to do that before I spring this on him.”

“Shit. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. It’s a good thing.” 

“Cryptic. That doesn’t explain why you look so stressed out though.”

“I need to handle this carefully. You wouldn’t get it.” And he doesn’t know how to explain it, not really, this strange feeling of self-sacrifice mixed together with the guilt from his deception. The itch to know that this will all work out, that it _must_ , without being able to glimpse into the future. The formless dread that John is not going to like this, but that the longer he delays, the less possible it will be to pull out. And besides, Peggy grew up in a rich, loving, stable family - she has no idea the kind of pressure he’s under trying to hold on to even a fraction of that for himself amid these rapidly changing circumstances.

She rolls her eyes in response. “I don’t get most of the shit you go on about, honestly. So, when is this mystery thing with John over? You don’t have a lot of time.”

He parses her meaning. “I’ll tell him Friday, after work.”

At that, Peggy whips out her phone, and before he realises what she’s doing he hears his phone vibrate on his desk, somewhere underneath the papers spread out across it.

“What the fuck, Pegs?”

“What?” she says innocently. She glances down and types quickly. His phone buzzes again. “Am I not allowed to invite my friends out for end-of-week drinks?” 

With rising worry, Alex fishes his phone out and checks the screen. There’s a growing stack of unread messages on their friends’ chat, and a single message from John that reads “???”.

He skims to the top of the new messages in the group chat.

> _Peggy > Drinks Friday @ 7 @ the usual spot!!! there is NEWS _
> 
> _Eliza > And you haven’t told your own sister?? For shame._
> 
> _Eliza > (I’ll be there of course.) _
> 
> _Peggy > lol correction ham has news :P _

He doesn’t bother to read the rest of the messages when he says, “Lovely. Now I’m in trouble. Thanks for nothing.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“Agree to disagree.” 

He flips back to the chat with John. He has no way to tell the tone of John’s message, so he chooses to interpret it as amusement.

> _Alex > hahaha yeah just peggy being all dramatic _
> 
> _Alex > should be fun tho, wanna join? _
> 
> _John > sure, if I can get my application in on time _
> 
> _John > been a while since we all got together _

This is a neutral-enough response. Alex puts away his phone. 

“Okay, fine,” he says to Peggy. “Count us in.”

***

Alex drags himself home that evening and finds their apartment in chaos. The living room furniture is buried under an explosion of stuff pulled from their spare room, and John has colonised the kitchen counter with dozens of haphazardly arranged sheets of paper. John's old paintings are laid out on most of the available floor surface. Alex can hear thudding and knocking from their bedroom.

“John? I’m home,” he calls over the racket.

There’s a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Alex picks his way carefully through the detritus and reaches out a hand to push aside some papers so he can make space on the counter for his satchel.

“Wait, don’t!” John yelps in almost genuine distress. He dashes across the room and starts sorting the papers into smaller piles. Alex waits and watches with growing amusement for John to realise he’s being stared at. When he does, he looks up and a little blush appears on his cheeks. “Hi, sorry about the mess,” he says with a sheepish smile and leans in for a kiss.

Peggy’s cryptic message seems to be forgotten, for now.

Alex puts his satchel down in the cleared space. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“I had no idea how much work this application would be.” John swipes at his forehead with the back of one hand and pushes the curls out of his face with his forearm. “I’m still trying to find the-- There’s this one painting…” He trails off and surveys the room. “Oh, wait, maybe it’s…” And John flies back across to the spare room, like he’s forgotten Alex is even there.

Alex is used to a bit more attention than this when he gets home, but he’s tired and he has an exam to study for, so it’s a convenient change today. There’s nowhere for him to sit given the mess in the living room, so Alex plods off to the bedroom, changes into track pants and one of John’s oversized sweaters, and settles on the bed with his laptop. He digs up a few guides online to the exam and settles deeper into the covers as he starts reading. Luckily, it does seem to be fairly foundational material - but it also means he gets bored almost right away.

He must doze off, because the next thing he notices is the dip of the mattress as John comes to sit down next to him and put his laptop carefully aside. As Alex comes to groggy wakefulness, John leans over and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Hate to wake you, but dinner’s ready and I know you don’t like to nap for too long.”

Alex blinks against the low light filtering from the next room. “Mmm, thanks.”

“Why were you studying?” John asks, sounding amused. “Afraid you’re losing your edge?”

Oh. Shit. His brain struggles to move fast enough to come up with a convincing bluff that isn’t a complete lie. “Work thing,” he says vaguely, then changes the topic. “What’s for dinner?”

Luckily, this poor answer satisfies John - or maybe John just doesn’t want to risk him going on about work. “Oh, just pasta. Coming soon?”

“Yeah, give me a second.”

John heads back to the kitchen and Alex flips open his laptop. Just to be safe, he minimises all of the incriminating tabs, then sighs at the implication of the word as it forms in his mind. 

At the same time, he doesn’t feel like it’s completely his fault for getting cornered into having something to feel guilty about. It’s not like he _wants_ to keep this secret. He just needs to be careful for three more days.

***

The exam the next day turns out to be a multiple-choice quiz that is so easy Alex actually regrets wasting the little time he spent preparing for it. His energy dips after the adrenaline wears off, though, and he’s hoping for a quiet evening - but as soon as he gets home, he can see John is in a state.

“I can’t do this,” John says dramatically as Alex closes the front door, leaning his head against the backrest of the couch. “It’s too hard!”

“The application?”

John reads from his screen. “‘What is your motivation for applying for this program at this time?’ Oh and they want me to tell them impossible stuff like what my ‘artistic and conceptual direction’ is. How am I supposed to know _that_?”

The mess from yesterday has been corralled, but a lot of it is still lying around, so Alex makes his way carefully around to the back of the couch and gives John an awkward sideways kiss. He runs his hands soothingly down John’s shoulders and arms. 

“You can do this. Just take it one question at a time. Break each one down, figure out what they want to hear, make notes, come back to it.”

John puts one hand over his and sighs softly. “I just feel out of my depth.”

It still confuses Alex when people say that’s like it’s a bad thing, because if he isn’t up to his ears in something challenging and unfamiliar, then what’s the point? But he knows John oscillates between bravado and insecurity, so he needs to nudge him back to a more confident footing. “You had a lot of interesting stuff to say about self-expression and meaning,” he suggests.

“Yeah - but that just sounds so first-base. Everyone’s going to say that.”

“You don’t need to use it, but it’s a starting point. Maybe make it more personal. You said it helped, after your mom…?”

“Hmm. Yeah.” Alex notices that John angles his screen away surreptitiously before he types a few words.

He needs this to succeed, so he draws up energy from his deep reserves so that he can lend some of it to John. “I don’t know anything about all the art stuff, but I know a hell of a lot about submitting applications and making convincing arguments. Want my help?”

John reaches his hands up and tugs them through his hair, then shoots Alex a grateful smile. “Thanks for offering, but I think I need to do this by myself. Plus it’s bad enough that someone on their side will actually have to read this. Don’t want to inflict it on you too.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alex feels strangely put out by being dismissed, despite the fact that he wasn’t feeling up to his offer just a moment ago. “I’m happy to help, really.”

“Oh, you know what would be great, then, actually? Would you mind doing the laundry? I was meaning to get to it today but I got stuck on this.”

Alex’s unjustified annoyance bubbles up again, but this is a perfectly normal and fair request, so he agrees and slogs down to the basement. He zones out for a bit as he watches the machine work, chewing over his discomfort to see if there’s any validity to it, then pulls out his phone and scrolls mindlessly through his news app to distract himself when he can’t come to a clear answer.

He can’t focus on anything. 

***

Alex looks up at the clock; it’s 6:30pm on Friday evening, and drinks start in half an hour. They’re going to be late.

“Come on, John, just send it.” He tries not to pace. A moment later, he catches himself pacing.

John stares sourly at the screen. “Maybe I should leave it for now and finish up after drinks. Take some more time to think.”

No. Alex can’t allow that. “Just send it. It’s fine. We can’t celebrate it until you do it.”

John frowns, then starts typing quickly. “Just a sec, then, I need to rewrite this one bit because it doesn’t quite…” He trails off, distracted, banging on the keyboard.

Alex suppresses his grumble. He wants to tell John to leave it alone, that the essay is fine just as it is after all the time he’s spent working on it, that changing one bit now would require a re-read of the whole draft. He chews on the inside of his cheek and swallows his words.

Five minutes later - they are now definitely going to be late - Alex is about to wrestle the laptop away from John and hit the submit button himself when John lets out a rush of air. “I did it. Shit, Alex, I sent it in. It’s done.” John grins up at him, wild and terrified and thrilled, and Alex smiles back.

“Show me?”

John turns the screen around and Alex sees the confirmation of the sent application. Relief melts away some of the tension between his shoulder blades. Finally! 

He kisses the top of John’s head and ruffles his hair. “Fantastic. Now hustle.” 

John laughs, puts the laptop away and ducks into the bedroom to change his shirt while Alex pockets his keys and phone, then hovers at the door. John slips his arm around Alex’s waist as they walk to the subway, and chatters away about all the other applications he needs to submit, now that the Columbia one is in. 

Alex keeps looking for a moment to jump in and bring up his news, but it’s a difficult thing to work casually into a conversation, and the crowded subway car doesn’t seem like the right place for it - too loud and too constrained for a frank discussion.

They emerge back onto the street, where the day has shifted from dusk to full night and everything is brightly lit by street signs and shopfronts. John has started talking about the kind of art he is considering working on if he gets accepted, and Alex wishes he could give him the space for it, to preserve this little happy bubble, but they are rapidly approaching their destination and this is really his last chance. They round the corner to the street where the bar is located and Alex reaches out to grab John’s hand, stopping him mid-stride. Alex tries to hide his discomfort - which is back with a sudden cold rush - but John sees it immediately.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is all concern.

“Before we get there, I have to tell you something.”

John’s brows furrow. “Alex, what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine! Better than fine actually.” He squeezes John’s hands. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden? “I got a new offer. Job offer. An amazing one.”

John’s expression twists further into confusion. Alex doesn’t blame him; this sort of news shouldn’t warrant a panicked streetside confession. “Oh. What is it?”

Alex smiles, but he feels tension and worry creep into the tight lines around his mouth. “It’s a placement with the DA’s office. Major Economic Crimes. That’s like big corporate fraud and stuff like that.” His smile softens a little as John’s eyes widen in surprise. “They chose me specifically for it, for a huge case they’re working on. This might be _the_ big break.”

“Holy shit, Alex - that’s incredible!” John throws his arms around him, and Alex realises how desperately he was missing John's affirmation. John pulls back just far enough to give him a big, surprised kiss. “Amazing. I know this is something you’ve always wanted. Wow.”

Alex wishes he could fully appreciate this moment - John’s delight; his own excitement, which has reemerged briefly from below the layers of anxiety; even the fact that John is holding and kissing him right here on the street, in public, which is no longer rare but remains special for having once been - but mostly he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He barely manages a smile and he knows John will see how forced it is. 

“That’s kinda why Peggy arranged all this,” he says, nudging the conversation along. “She wanted me to tell everyone.” 

“Oh.” Alex sees the moment that the darker realisation dawns on John. “Hang on. She sent that invite on - was it Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” Alex doesn't look away as John’s features start to cloud over.

“So you already knew then?”

A beat. “Yes.”

“Wait - and before that? How long?”

Alex winces apologetically. “About a month.” Why does it sound so much worse when he says it out loud?

John’s voice gets softer, colder. “Oh. So _this_ is what you’ve been hiding. That all suddenly makes sense. I could tell something was up weeks ago. And here I thought you were planning a surprise or something, so I didn’t want to pry.” 

Ah, fuck. Alex’s mind bursts into bright panic but he tamps it down quickly. John picked up on him, after all. Of course. Shit.

“You know me too well,” he admits.

“You’re just not as good at hiding things as you think. Why didn’t you say anything?” He can see John is vacillating between confusion and anger and hurt.

“I was just waiting for the right moment,” Alex insists. “The Columbia thing came up and I didn’t want to distract you. But that’s okay, that’s done, and now we both have something exciting to share.”

“That was _this_ week! And the three weeks before that?”

Alex cringes and finally looks away. He doesn’t have the time to get into it now.

“Shit, Alex.” John’s face falls and Alex can see his mind turning all this information over rapidly. “I can’t-- If you’re starting a new case like that, there’s no way I can go back to school now.” He sighs heavily, like he’s been expecting this inevitable disappointment. “So, great, you just let me waste all this time--”

“No!” Alex cuts him off sharply, throwing reassurances out one after the other. “ _This_ doesn’t change _that._ Otherwise I would have said, I swear. The timing is not ideal but we’ll make it work. Trust me. I have it all figured out. I promise, John, I promise.”

“Alex…”

“Alex, John! There you are!” A new voice breaks into their conversation, carrying across the din of the traffic. It’s Eliza, calling and waving at them as she approaches. 

Alex can see John is a storm of emotion. He reaches up and hugs John close for a second, and uses it as cover to turn his face away from Eliza and murmur in John’s ear. “Talk later, please, okay?”

John is stiff and distant between his arms; it’s almost imperceptible but Alex feels it clear as day. “Yeah.” 

“I thought I was late!” Eliza huffs, beaming at them.

They plaster on mutual fake smiles that fool Eliza but not each other, and the three of them walk to the bar. 


	3. The Dispute

A lawyer and a politician’s son walk into a bar, Alex thinks bitterly, and nobody in the world can tell they’re inches from a meltdown. If there is a joke in here somewhere, it must be at his expense.

At least they are able to maintain a benign facade. It’s easier if they don’t have to explain themselves to everyone else, and on this, mercifully, they both seem to agree.

Alex can’t remember feeling this torn in a long while. He’s thrilled about the job and excited to see his friends, but dreads the dark smoulder of well-concealed anger that John is becoming. There’s a lot more of it that Alex expected, and that tightens a knot of anxiety in his belly that he stubbornly ignores.

He tries to push his misgivings down as Peggy waves at them across the packed bar, and John, Alex and Eliza pile into the big booth with the others. John lets Eliza slip in to sit between them. Another bad sign.

Despite his discomfort, he marvels for a moment that he has enough close friends to fill a booth, and that he’s managed to hang on to them for so long. Hercules is his oldest friend in the city, from Alex’s first days staying in a smoky, rat-infested boarding house that he prefers not to remember. He met Lafayette in his third year of college, when Alex was buddied up with him because he was the only person in their dorm who spoke French. Then there are Eliza, who continues to see merit in him even after their brief but disastrous relationship, and Peggy, who was always on the periphery as the tag-along youngest sister but who has now become a close friend and colleague. 

And John, of course - always John. 

Alex suspects John is over half the reason the others keep _him_ around in the first place.

He misses Angelica’s presence - she’s off in London, living gloriously - because she is always in _his_ corner, even when everyone else has taken John’s side against him. He suspects the support would have come in handy tonight.

It’s been ages since they last got together, and the evening devolves into a round-robin catch-up. Alex sits back and lets them chat; he’ll get his chance soon enough and this way he’ll give John a bit more time to settle and prepare.

The biggest news at the table comes from Lafayette.

“Adrienne has finally received her spousal visa!” he announces with a massive, beaming smile. It’s taken long enough - the wheels of immigration bureaucracy turn slowly, it seems.

“Oh!” Eliza gasps. “That’s fantastic! How long has it been since you saw her?”

“Too long,” Laf says wryly. “Almost six months, now. And, of course, my darling Anastasie.” He whips out his phone and doesn’t bother hiding his delight as he swipes through an endless album of photos of his wife and their newborn daughter. “I just hope that she likes me,” he says wistfully. 

Laf has never met Anastasie, since complicated visa reasons prevented him going to France when she was born. However, it doesn’t seem to have affected his infatuation. If Alex thought the way Lafayette gazed at Adrienne was blissful, it’s nothing compared to his daughter - it’s like he’s looking on the face of god. There was never any doubt that Laf would be an excellent father. Lucky girl, Alex thinks, without any jealousy, to grow up cherished and provided for.

“Don’t worry, she’ll adore you,” John says warmly, echoing Alex’s thoughts.

“So, are you moving over for good?” Hercules asks.

“Ah, no, it is only going to be semi-permanent because, of course, we need to maintain the estates in France and that requires residency over there. So we will be back and forth a little, but here most of the time.”

As John and the Schuylers nod along, Alex shoots Herc a smirk and gets a raised eyebrow in return. The others might be comfortable with talk of massive properties and endless fortunes, but the two of them share much more humble origins and rely on each other, in times like this, to make silent fun of their privileged friends.

Just as the conversation threatens to devolve into talk of childproofing and the critical stages of early development, Peggy clears her throat loudly.

“I think Mister Hamilton over here has something to announce as well.”

Alex stands up with a mock-humble expression and winks over at Peggy. She grins and raises her eyebrows, then he sees her sneak a glance at John and the corner of her mouth twitches down. Alex can’t see John from this angle and doesn’t dare to turn and look.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts, clearing his throat as though he’s about to give a speech.

Herc cuts him off with a groan. “No way, Ham, just get to it.” Everyone laughs.

Alex sniffs. “Fine, fine, I’ll skip the first three pages of thank yous, you ungrateful bastard. Anyway, you should watch your manners now, because you are in the presence of the newest prosecutor to be appointed to the DA’s office.”

“Oh, shit!” Herc says, “That the one you’ve been talking about since the day I scraped you off the pavement fifteen years ago?”

“Yep.” 

“Alex,” Eliza says, “That’s - wow! Well done!” She reaches over to squeeze his hand. He can’t help his smile. Of course Eliza’s happiness for him comes without conditions.

Laf looks puzzled. “Sorry, but, ah, can you explain for us non-Americans?”

Alex nods. “The DA - that’s District Attorney - is the prosecutor who represents the state of New York in court. She’s like the state’s lawyer, but of course she has a whole team helping out across a bunch of divisions. And now I’m one of them.”

Lafayette’s eyes widen. “But, mon ami, that sounds really important. Does this mean you're - eh - a big deal now?”

Alex grins. “In a small way, yeah.”

“Ah!” Lafayette jumps up and crushes him in an enthusiastic embrace, and then the others are up too, hugging him or clapping him on his back.

Once they’ve all settled again, Alex explains about the fraud bureau, the contract, the as-yet-undisclosed matter he will be working on. He puts in as much detail as he can, because he needs _John_ to hear it, so that he can perhaps more fully understand why this is so important to him. He also names a few high-profile cases the office has fought that made the news, just to impress them - he’s been assured this one is likely to make just as big of a splash. 

“Gosh,” Eliza jokes, “He’s going to be even more insufferable now, isn’t that right, John?”

Everyone turns to John, and Alex realises that he hasn’t spoken since the conversation started. John starts, pulls his gaze back from the middle distance and lets out a humourless snort. “For all my sins.”

Everyone laughs at that, but Alex doesn’t miss the silent exchange that Eliza and Peggy share across the table.

“Next round’s on you, lawyer-man,” Peggy announces. “Come, I’ll give you a hand.”

Alex instantly knows she’s trying to get him away from the table, and he's reluctant to leave for precisely that reason. But he can’t really refuse without making a scene, so he gives her a knowing glare, but then squeezes out of the booth and heads for the bar with her. They place the order and pay, then wait for the drinks. Alex glances back at the table and confirms that he was right to worry about leaving.

Eliza has turned to look at John, and she’s leaning forward a little, in a way that looks uncomfortably conspiratorial. John is sitting up more stiffly, his face angled down to the table rather than at any of their friends. Then Eliza puts a hand on his forearm, and Alex sees John give her a stiff smile, carefully shrug off the hand, then stand up and head to the bathroom.

Huh. That can’t be good.

When Alex turns back to Peggy, she is studying him. “In what _precise_ way did you fuck this up?” she prods.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Really?”

“Look, I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to tell him until just before we got here--”

“What! Ugh!” Peggy grunts, rolling her eyes. “How can you be so smart _and_ such an idiot?”

Her phone buzzes. She takes it out, looks at the screen, types a quick response, then slips it back into her pocket with a snort. “Better start thinking of creative ways to beg for forgiveness,” she says ominously.

They get back with the drinks at the same time John does, and there’s a little awkward shuffle as they get seated again. This time, Eliza scoots up, so John and Alex end up next to each other. John looks a little more composed, at least.

“Since we’re all sharing,” Alex says, only half-sure this is a good idea, “Why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve been up to this week, John?”

“Oh, ah, it’s not that exciting,” John demurs.

Alex shoots Peggy a pleading look. She gets the hint.

“Spill it, Jacky-boy,” she orders.

John gives her a tight smile. “Well, ah - I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, and I’m considering going back to school. Applied for some stuff this week. Actually, that’s why we were late.”

There is a surprised but pleased murmur, which seems to give John a bit of reassurance. 

“What field?” Herc asks.

“Ah - fine art, actually.”

Eliza slips an arm around John’s waist and gives him a side hug. “Oh, that’s wonderful, John! You’re going to love it.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t been accepted anywhere yet.” 

“Just a matter of time,” Alex says, taking a risk by bumping John gently with his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” John says, and changes the topic.

***

Alex tries to drag the evening out as long as possible, because leaving will inevitably mean _fighting_. But now that they’re all in or around their thirties, they have productive stuff to do in the morning and a sleep schedule to maintain - ha! - so they start to trickle away earlier than he would like.

Eventually, it’s just Alex, John and Peggy. Alex suspects Peggy has been sticking around because she feels responsible for the way she’s cornered him tonight, despite her earlier snark. 

She’s a little drunk, and sounds like she still has some partying left in her, so they agree to walk her to a friend’s apartment. As soon as they are out on the street, Peggy jumps up onto John’s back like she’s a child, and he gamefully loops his arms around her thighs and gives her a piggyback ride. She swings her legs happily and plays with his curls as they walk along, and she chatters non-stop about some party that Angelica and JC threw in London, which was attended by not only one genuine British celebrity, but also several very minor royals. She distracts them for the entirety of the walk, which has also brought them considerably closer to home.

He’s going to owe her gratitude-coffee for a week.

They ride the subway home from there in silence. Alex tries not to let his pent-up nerves run away with him. It’s a done deal, after all - he can’t really pull out of the contract now, so he just needs to weather John’s mood for a bit. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, he reminds himself.

But, then again, Alex never really did like apologising either.

***

When Alex angers, it's like a tropical squall - frequent, sudden, intense, and over quickly. He never stays aggravated about any one thing for long; he comes up with a solution, then moves on to other things. 

When John gets angry, it builds like a snowstorm, slow, dark, looming on the horizon, and when it hits it smothers everything else for days.

The fact that John waits until they are all the way home with the door closed before he says _anything_ tells Alex just how furious he is. He’s been stewing for hours, so it’s no surprise. There’s nowhere to run or hide, and Alex doesn’t try. The best way to get control back over this situation is to stand and face it.

John gets straight to the point, hand tangled tightly in his own hair. “Alex. You lied to me.”

“Only by omission,” he protests automatically, and then regrets it.

John shakes his head. “No, don’t you dare try to lawyer your way out of this. You spent an entire _month_ lying to my face. Tell me why.”

Alex leans back against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched over. “Look, it was for a good reason, okay? This stuff was confidential, and I wanted to tell you as soon as it was confirmed, but then you mentioned the studies and I didn’t want this to make you reconsider.”

“How very noble of you!” John pulls off his coat and goes to sit on the armrest of the couch so that they are facing each other. He props his arms heavily on either side of his body. “And you didn’t think it would be useful for me to have all this information when I was making my decision?”

“It really doesn’t make that much of a difference, if you think about it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Alex cringes. 

“I guess I’m just confused,” John says, and Alex hates it when he takes this detached, sarcastic tone. “You keep saying that we’re in this together, right? But then you don’t trust me enough to tell me something massive and consequential like this? Even if you’d told me on Monday, it was already a done deal by then, right?” Alex looks off into the corner of the kitchen floor. He fixates on a spot where there’s a small chip in the tile from when he dropped a mug on the floor years ago. “ _Right,_ Alex?” John repeats, louder.

“Yup.” He wishes he didn’t sound so petulant, but he can’t help it with the way John is scolding him.

John sighs. “Do you see why that’s a problem?”

“I screwed up. I know. I mean, the whole thing was confidential, but...”

John waits for a long moment. “But what?”

“Honestly?”

“ _Yes!_ Jesus, Alex, please.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to do it. That you’d make me turn it down.”

John’s frown deepens. “Make you? I don’t think anyone could _make you_ do anything.”

“Bad choice of words. Talk me out of it, or whatever.”

“What were you expecting, Alex? That I’d force you to choose? ‘It’s me or the job’,” John intones bitterly.

“John, come on, it’s not--” He starts, but then cuts off, unable to formulate a coherent response - because it _is_ that. John has hit a mark that even Alex didn’t know was there, under his layers of bravado and indignation. 

John sees it in Alex’s face. His tone turns grimly unsurprised. “You really _don’t_ trust me.” 

“It’s not that!”

John rolls his eyes. “Funny, because that’s what it feels like. And why were you worried about that in the first place?” he asks.

“Worried about what?” he snaps. John’s tone is prickling his nerves.

“ _Don’t_ do that. Why would I have wanted to talk you out of it?”

Alex keeps his eyes riveted on the floor, crosses his arms more tightly across his chest. “It’s a huge opportunity but it’s a big commitment. Like I said at the bar, I’m going to be busy - really busy. Work, travel, court, events, all of it. It’s going to be a lot more than my job now. And I know you already think I’m not around enough.”

“Ah. Right.” John’s voice loses some of its anger, and sadness creeps in to replace it. “Here I’m trying to keep some sort of balance and wanting to see you for more than a few hours on the weekend, and _I’m_ the bad guy.”

Alex drags his eyes up from the floor and sees that John is now looking away, chewing anxiously at his lip. “No, Jack,” he says softly. “Never.” He pushes off the counter and takes a risk by stepping across and putting a hand on John’s tense upper arm. “I know you’re just looking out for me.”

This close, he can see how tightly John’s jaw is set, and that his narrowed eyes are swimming just a little. At least John doesn’t throw his hand off. That’s something.

“Look, I get it,” Alex says, forcing an apologetic note into his voice that he doesn’t fully feel. “I fucked up. But it was for a good reason - for you. Be honest, would you have sent in your application if you’d known?”

John twists his mouth to one side. “Probably not,” he admits in a small voice.

“See? Then it’s worth you being mad at me.”

“That’s _really_ not the point, Alex!” 

“Then what is?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for both of us to start something new at the same time.”

“I told you,” Alex insists. “I’ve worked it out, and it’s going to be fine. I’m not taking a pay cut so it doesn’t change the money side of things, and really it’s just another job at the end of the day. I’ll handle it.”

“Except,” John says icily, “That’s not quite true, is it? Forget the money. This new thing is going to be public and high profile. For once, I have a leg up on you. I don’t think you have _any_ idea what that’s going to be like. For _both_ of us.”

Alex bites his lip and slides his hand off John’s arm. John’s right. Alex has downplayed this side of it in his mind - until right now, when he sees the look of frustration, worry and resignation on John’s face. He’s miscalculated here, big time. Remorse bubbles up from somewhere deep in this gut at the fact that he’s responsible for putting this look on John’s face.

“But lucky for me,” Alex hazards, “ _You_ know. And I’m going to have to lean on you a bit for help.” This is a risky tactic, because John is furious, but at the same time he knows John takes pride in being his anchor and his most stalwart supporter. He sometimes gets the impression that John feels like he can’t measure up to Alex, so he makes a point to highlight how critical John’s role is in all of his successes.

The reaction he gets is not what he hoped for. 

John clenches his jaw grimly. “Well, sure, you know I’ll help where I can - but I’m serious when I say it takes a lot. Time. Energy. Emotional strain. Did you consider that as soon as you start appearing in the public eye, people will start digging into your life?”

“It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“Yes, Alex, sure you can - but what about _me_?” The silence rings heavy and thick for a moment. “I guess I knew it would happen eventually, with your trajectory, but I thought I’d have a bit longer before all this kicked up again. Because I know it’s only a matter of time before I get dragged into it too.”

“Oh.” Fuck, Alex really _has_ misjudged this. His face falls. “Shit. Yeah.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” John repeats at him, now sounding exasperated more than angry. “Are you getting the picture now? Why this is a big fucking deal and that you should have at least mentioned it to me first?” 

Alex winces as John presses a hand over his eye, rubbing it tiredly. He’s trying to read between the lines, and a lot of this sounds like echoes of anger directed not just at him, but at Henry too. Alex has stolen something from John here - some agency, or control, that John has been cherishing - and he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Alex really doesn’t know what to say in response to that, so he waits for John to pick up the thread.

“So, do you still think it’s a good idea for me to go back to school, considering all the scrutiny we’ll be facing? All the extra work we’ll both need to do? Keeping up appearances and all that shit?”

Fuck. This situation is rapidly spiralling out of Alex’s grasp. He needs to find a way to get back in control of this argument before he loses it. 

A mad idea comes to him and he rapidly calculates his odds of success. He takes the shot.

“Okay. So you’re saying we can’t do both things?” John tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Fine. Then I’ll withdraw from the contract.”

This is a bluff, cruel and unfair, but Alex hopes it’s not too transparent. Given how defiant John’s being, he might actually call Alex on it, just to make a point.

John turns back to surprise and annoyance. “Don’t be a fucking idiot, Alex. You can’t waste your opportunity on the vague hope that mine will come through.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do it if that’s what it takes.”

“No. No way. In a week of exceptional stupidity, this is by far the dumbest thing you’ve said.”

Alex crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, I’m not giving you the choice to back out of yours.”

“So, what? We stay here until one of us caves?” As soon as John says it, they both realise Alex would win that battle of wills, and the silent acknowledgement of that fact passes between them. John sighs heavily. “Fuck, Alex. You can’t make me responsible for that. It’s not fair.”

“But it’s simple, then, isn’t it? Nothing has to change. Come on, John, we can do this! Yeah, it’s a risk, but the best things in life come when you take chances. I can see you’re worried about the exposure, but I’ll shield you as much as I can and I’m pretty sure the DA’s office knows how to handle stuff like that too. The case is going to take time to assemble, certainly more than a year, so you’ll be done studying even before it picks up seriously. Also, don’t forget - not married.” He says it with a rueful laugh. “We’ll be careful, and maybe we can keep you out of it entirely. No one ever has to find out about you.”

John winces, and Alex is not sure why.

“So?” Alex ventures after a long stretch of silence. “Are we agreed?”

John shakes his head, looking defeated more than convinced. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, Alex.”

It’s not the enthusiastic yes he was hoping for, but he’ll take it. “Then it’s settled. We good?”

“No.” John’s voice is ice, and Alex’s heart leaps back into his throat. “Alex. I get that people make mistakes. I know it’s bound to happen to us from time to time. I mean, yeah, I’m pretty mad about the fact that you went and got this whole new job without even saying a word to me first. This stuff affects me on a very real level.”

“Yeah. You’ve made that clear.”

“No, hang on. My point is that things like that, things you do - even if they’re bad decisions you made in the moment - are forgivable. Nobody’s perfect. So I’m mad but I can see you had your reasons. But.” John looks at him sternly, certainly more forcefully than Alex can recall seeing from him in a long time. “But _lying_ about it afterwards is a choice. You _chose_ to keep this from me, for _weeks_ , and that’s really not a good feeling.” John’s voice cracks here, just a little. “I grew up with people around me making decisions for me without my consent, and that’s not something I’m prepared to put up with anymore. Not even from you.” 

Alex nods seriously, and keeps his mouth shut and his eyes down. This part of the equation didn’t really occur to him earlier. He’s inadvertently broken something precious he didn’t know was there, and the realisation plants a heavy weight beneath his diaphragm. 

“Look, I know that wasn’t your intention,” John continues, firm but gentler. “But I have to know that I can trust you, okay? No exceptions. Keeping a secret is _always_ going to be worse than telling me about anything you’ve done wrong. So, please, promise me - don’t hide stuff again. I mean it. This is a one-strike thing, got it? Even if you messed up in a big way, or think it’s for my own good. You need to let me be the judge of that. Okay?”

Alex nods without looking up. “Yes. I promise.”

“And I need you to say that you trust _me_ too - trust that I care about you and have your best interests at heart. Even if we don’t always agree on what that looks like in practice.”

“Okay.”

“Can you say it? Please.”

Alex smiles contritely. This time it’s easier to meet John’s eyes. “I trust you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Alex ventures putting his hand back on John’s upper arm. “Anything for you. Always. I love you, Jack.” He leans forward to kiss John’s forehead, and John allows it. 

John smiles ruefully. “So you’re really starting this new job in two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“Crazy.”

“I’ve been dying to talk to you about it.” 

John barks an emotional laugh. “I wish you had.”

Alex inflects some good-natured exasperation into his voice, but uses it as cover to put his other hand on John’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But I do mean it when I say it isn’t going to be such a big change, really. And it’s good timing, if you think about it. We’ll both be busy together.” 

“If I even get accepted somewhere.”

“You will,” Alex says with utter conviction. He can see that he’s winning John back by inches, and rubs his hands up and down John’s arms gently, like he’s soothing a skittish horse. Now that he’s no longer trying to win the argument, he aims his words for tender spots that will heal rather than hurt. “I couldn’t wait to tell you, knowing how proud you’d be of me. And I can’t wait for us to go on this adventure together.”

“I _am_ proud of you,” John murmurs, a little sourly.

“So, does that mean you can forgive me?”

“For which part?” John asks, but there’s a ghost of humour underneath the bite.

Alex cringes. “All of it, I guess?”

John straightens up until he is fully standing and puts his arms around Alex. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t pull a stunt like this again. I mean that.” 

John sounds heavy and tired, but Alex considers this an unexpectedly comprehensive victory - right up until he puts his arms around John in return. The tightness between Alex’s ribs has melted away, but John is still tense as a steel rod. 

The damage doesn’t seem irreparable, but it certainly isn’t fixed yet. He needs to tread carefully for the next little while.

“You’re the best,” Alex says, half muffled from where he’s pressed his face into John’s chest.

“Don’t you forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Come chat on Tumblr - @my-deer-friend <3


End file.
